


Attachments

by Mithen



Category: DCU - Comicverse, Justice League International (Comic)
Genre: Dirty Talk, First Time, Humor, Lists, M/M, Virgin Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-23
Updated: 2007-10-02
Packaged: 2017-11-03 03:09:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/376454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithen/pseuds/Mithen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The JLI (with Superman along for the ride) finds itself captured on a planet with a volcano that requires a sacrificial virgin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Attachments

"Whoa, whoa!"  Blue Beetle was thrown backwards into Booster Gold's arms as a tractor beam grabbed their space ship.  Booster righted him hastily.  Gibberish continued to spew from the ship's speakers.

"Beetle, why isn't your translator working?" snarled Batman as he struggled to keep the ship's keel even.  It lurched again and Ice was catapulted into Guy Gardner, extricating herself hurriedly when Guy leered at her.

Ted Kord staggered to the front of the ship and started banging on various readouts.  "It should be, Batman!  This planet's language must be particularly obscure..."

"Lantern?"

Gardner checked his ring.  "Nada, Bats.  The force field must be yellow, it's blocking my access to the translating banks on Oa."

Superman was hovering a couple of inches off the floor, so the continuing juddering motions failed to shake his composure as he crossed his arms and looked annoyed. 　"It never goes well when I come along to assist you guys.  Never."  


"Thank you for the observation, Kal.  Now would you--"  Batman's suggestion was cut off as the voice finally began to speak English--more or less.

"With all due respect, sllzt ar ar that this ship has a krllt aboard.  We repeat, our scans reveal that this ship has a krllt aboard.  We're terribly sorry, but we require your krllt to mend the iirrj."

"You're going to have to do better than that, Beetle," Batman said as he opened the channel.  Sweating, Ted continued to work feverishly on the console as Batman spoke.  "This is the Justice League of Terra.  We are not hostile.  We are here to refuel on our way home, nothing more."

"Again, our apologies, but we need your krllt for the iirrj.  You have only one on board.  Very valuable."  the alien voice sounded rather desperate. 

  
"Beetle," hissed Batman, then turned back to the mike.  "Could you explain what exactly a--a krllt and an iirrj are?"

Sounds of a hurried consultation.  Blue Beetle finished adjusting the console, flashed Batman a thumbs-up sign, and went back to sit next to Booster Gold.  The alien began speaking again.  "A krllt is a--an adult who has never engaged in sexual activity with another sentient being."

"You mean a virgin?"  blurted Booster Gold.

"Yes, yes, virgin.  Our krlltometer indicates you have one on board."

Booster's mouth was agape.  "You have a...virginometer?"

"Yes, yes, very rare resource.  And we desperately need a virgin to put in our iirrj\--"  the translator hiccuped a little and repeated, "--our volcano.  We're so very sorry, but if we don't, the consequences are very dire."

Batman's gloved fingers drummed on the console with barely-concealed irritation.  "You have a way of determining whether a person is a virgin?"

"Yes, yes!  Let us recalibrate for a more detailed scan to determine which one of you it is.  Only one on board.  So valuable!"  As the voice finished, a wall of blue light began to slowly sweep up from the back of the ship, engulfing each member of the Justice League in turn.

"Red-haired human male is not a virgin."

"Damn straight," Gardner blustered, puffing out his chest. 

"White-haired human female is not a virgin."

"Also damn straight," Green Lantern said, as Ice looked appalled.

"Green-haired human female is not a virgin."

Guy Gardner intercepted a glare from Fire and wisely kept his mouth shut this time.

"Blond human male is not a virgin."  Various occupants of the ship rolled their eyes as the force field crept further up.

"Brown-haired human male is not a virgin."

"Huh?"  Gardner looked astonished.  "I definitely woulda thought it was you, man."  Ted Kord blushed deep red and didn't look at Booster Gold.

The force field inched toward Superman, who held up his hand abruptly.  "Wait.  All right, I admit it."  He looked uncomfortable, but continued, "I'm a--a krllt."

"You're a virgin, sir?" The polite alien's voice said in great excitement.  The force field halted inches short of the Kryptonian.

"I'm a--yes."  Superman exhaled irritably.  "It sounded better as krllt," he added in a rather sullen mutter.

"And--my dear sir, are you truly willing to sacrifice yourself to our volcano to save our people?"

"The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few," Superman said somewhat pompously, but he threw a mischievous wink to the other occupants of the ship.

"Most honorable sir, we will be forever in the debt of you and your people for this act of heroism!"  The alien voice sounded deeply moved.  "Please, please land.  The sacrifice is tomorrow.  We shall give you tonight to make peace with whatever gods you revere."

Batman closed communications and looked levelly at Superman, who shrugged.  "They throw me in the volcano, I swim to the bottom and tunnel out, their superstitions are appeased and I'll meet up with you on the far side of their moon.  No problem."

"I just...never would have thought it," Booster Gold said, sounding shocked.  "Big Blue?  I mean, anyone would be happy to--" he broke off, looking flustered.

Superman looked annoyed again.  "Maybe I'm just waiting for the right person, all right?  Could we not make too big a deal of this?"  He shot a particularly venomous glare at Green Lantern, snickering in the back of the ship.  "You people.  You're the only team in the universe that could possibly run into a superstitious culture with a volcano and a virginometer.  These things never happen to sane superhero teams."

Guy Gardner continued to chortle.  "Hey, Superman, we might be a bunch of losers, but who's the only virgin on this ship, huh?  Who's the loser now, baby?"

Superman looked deeply aggrieved.  "The sacrifices I make.  And I'm not talking about being thrown in a volcano here."

They made the rest of the landing in a frosty silence broken only by occasional sniggers from different members of the League.  After they landed, an extremely polite regiment of alien guards ushered Kal-El away to a secure room, "To prepare yourself, honored sir."

The League were escorted to a different room, where they met Mrrsd, the alien they had been talking to previously.  Mrrsd spent some time lauding the noble self-sacrifice of their mighty companion, and Guy Gardner rolled his eyes a lot.  "Perhaps you would like to see the volcano in person, so that you will understand the horror your companion is saving us from?"  Mrrsd suggested.

"We'd like that," Batman said quickly, and the rest of the League tagged along as the froggy alien led them through a lovely city.  Eventually they came to an overlook of white marble.  Mrrsd gestured.  "Behold the volcano!"

There was a long silence.  Then Batman said very politely, "Volcano?"  Ted Kord, very pale, was fiddling with the small translator box.

Between two huge black marble pillars in front of them, a rift sprawled and crackled, spewing distorted energy like black light.  "Indeed, the Great Volcano, a gateway to a magical dimension wherein all are crushed by supernatural forces beyond the ken of mortals," Mrrsd said sadly.  "Without feeding on the sexual energy of a virgin once a year, the Volcano will expand and consume our world."  It looked at the League's faces.  "Is that not the definition of 'volcano' on your world?"

"I suppose it was an understandable translating mistake," Ice said helpfully; Batman glared at her and turned back to the alien.

"So, Mrrsd, how exactly will this ritual go tomorrow?"

"Your courageous friend will be taken from his Room of Deep Contemplation and given a last symbolic scan with the virginometer.   Then he will be wreathed in the ceremonial Viridian Chains of of Humility and ushered to the Volcano."

"Chains?"  said Booster Gold.

"Oh, I assure you, the Viridian Chains of Humility are merely there as a symbol of the virgin's great spiritual restraint.  Crafted from starmetal that fell from the sky thirty years ago, they cause no discomfort whatsoever."

"Um, what's 'viridian' mean?" asked Booster.

"Green," said Blue Beetle.  "Green meteorite metal."

Batman covered his face with a hand.

  
: : :   


  
Batman stood up and the babbling chaos in the room eventually died away.

"All right, let's assess this situation.  First, we need a team to analyze the 'volcano'--"  He shot a look at Blue Beetle, who blanched, "--and figure out if the threat it poses is real or not.  That team needs to start thinking of ways to fix this rift.  In case the rift isn't easily fixable, we need to--"  He stopped and cleared his throat, "We need to make sure Superman is no longer a...a viable subject for sacrifice."

"But what if a virgin is actually needed to seal the rift?" asked Fire.  "Stranger things have happened when magic is involved."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."  Batman drummed his fingers on the table, looking down thoughtfully.  "We'll need to send in a person with good infiltration skills, capable of getting past guards unnoticed--we don't want to cause a scene, just 'invalidate' Superman--someone subtle, canny, and sneaky."  He looked up to see the rest of the team--the flame and ice blasters, the ring jockey, the tinkerer, Booster Gold--staring at him. 

"Oh, no," Batman said.  "No, no, no, no, no."

Guy Gardner clapped Batman on the back, his face solemn.  "Bats, we're all counting on you to get in there and deflower Superman."  


  
: : :  


  
Kal-El was sitting in the Room of Deep Contemplation.  It was a very nice room, actually:  softly lit, with a fluffy divan-like thing for reclining on and a plush dark blue carpet.  There was even a bowl of some interesting alien fruit.  Kal peeled one and nibbled at the scarlet seeds clustered inside.

He raised an eyebrow when a ventilation shaft slid aside and Batman dropped noiselessly into the room.  "There's been a complication," said Batman.  "The 'volcano' is actually a magical rift.  And they're going to clap you in Kryptonite chains first."

"That does make things a bit more difficult," Superman agreed.  "But I'm willing to take my chances."

Batman looked uncomfortable.  "One additional hurdle.  They're going to insist on giving you a last full scan before throwing you in."  Kal-El looked both alarmed and annoyed as Batman continued, "And when they do that..."

"...They'll figure out that I'm not the virgin in the group after all."

A pause while Superman rubbed his chin thoughtfully and Batman looked surprisingly awkward.  After a moment, Bruce spoke again.  "I appreciate your stepping up like that--"

Superman waved a hand dismissively.  "My chances of surviving any kind of 'volcano' are better than yours.  It was worth a shot.  It didn't cost me anything."  His expression darkened a little.  "Except the next decade of ribbing by Green Lantern..."

"The rest of the League are looking for a way to fix the rift.  In the meantime, I've been sent here to...to make sure there aren't any virgins around by morning."

Superman laughed suddenly.  "You managed to convince them they were forcing you to come in here and have sex with me, when you knew full well it was you who was in danger?"  Superman shook his head admiringly.  "You are one manipulative bastard, Bruce."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Batman said blandly.  He reached up to unfasten his cape.  "Well, let's get this over with."

"Wait," Superman said, and Batman paused.  "You're--you really are?  Truly?"  He didn't sound smug or mocking, just rather puzzled.  Bruce nodded slightly.  "The playboy prince of Gotham?  How in the world did you get away with that?"

Bruce let the midnight-blue silk of the cape slip through his fingers and to the floor, and came over to sit next to Superman on the divan, keeping a respectful distance between them.  "When someone has the reputation as a Casanova that Bruce Wayne does, no one is going to admit to being the one person he apparently did not find attractive enough to sleep with.  The mystique builds on itself."

Superman gestured vaguely.  "Why in the world...when you could..."  His voice trailed off.

"Sex is an impediment, Clark.  The human psyche is set up so that sex nearly always leads to emotional attachments of some sort.  Emotional attachments are...risky.  I believe my relations with Dick and with--"  His voice stumbled like fingernails over a raw wound, "--with Jason have proven that even non-sexual attachments are...not my strong suit." 

Clark waited until the pain ebbed out of the air between them a little.  "So you deal with the urge by just--"

"I'm very good at it, in fact."  A tiny hint of smile.  "The World's Greatest Masturbator."

Clark snorted surprised laughter.  "It's not exactly the same, Bruce."

The sliver of smile vanished.  "That's the point, Clark."  He slipped his gloves off, then pulled his costume over his head, tugging viciously when it caught on the pointed ears.  "Can we please just get this over with?"

Superman blinked at him.  "The cowl, Bruce."  When Batman didn't budge, he crossed his arms and glared.  "We are not doing this with the cowl on.  That's just wrong."  


Batman sighed and yanked the cowl off, revealing rumpled dark hair and cold blue eyes in a very pale face.  "Happy?"

"Not particularly, no."  Clark leaned in toward Bruce's mouth, then paused as the other man stiffened.  "What?"

"There's no need for that, is there?"

Clark took a long, careful breath, not pulling back but not moving forward.  "Bruce.  I refuse to be responsible for your first time being cold and brutal and painful.  Even if that might be how you want it to be," he added, and saw a muscle at the corner of Bruce's eye twitch very slightly.  "No one deserves that, Bruce.  No one."  He moved forward again very slowly, pausing for a moment close enough to feel the other man's breath on his lips, then closed the tiny gap, eyes sliding shut involuntarily as he felt Bruce's mouth under his.

Bruce's mouth was still and cold, but softer than he had ever imagined it might be.

Oh, how he had imagined it.

Clark held himself motionless as long as he could, but all his careful and polite abstractness seemed to be crumbling in the face of the overwhelming fact that he was kissing Bruce Wayne.  He shifted a little, brought the tip of his tongue to brush the mouth pressed against his--and Bruce flinched as though Clark had jabbed him with a taser.  "I can't--" he said abruptly, his mouth still on Clark's.  Clark pulled back and Bruce said, "I don't--I'm not sure I can do this, Clark.  I can do the sex, but...not this."

"You can let me fuck you, but you're not capable of enjoying it?"  Clark felt anger and pain boil together inside him.  "I'm just that repulsive?"

Bruce closed his eyes and shook his head very slightly.  "It might...be easier if you were," he said with just the barest thread of laughter under his voice.  He opened his eyes and looked at Clark, and in that candid, cool gaze Clark saw something that made him inhale sharply.  He let his breath out again, carefully.

"We could go try to get Guy in here for you, if that would help," Clark said, keeping his voice casually light, and Bruce barked a laugh and relaxed just a fraction.

"No.  No, that wouldn't help.  Clark."  He stopped and just looked at the Kryptonian for a moment.  "Try again."

Clark leaned forward again and kissed him, just the slightest pressure of lips on lips, making no demands, just resting there, waiting.  This time it was Bruce's lips that parted, Bruce's tongue that flicked out to tease open Clark's mouth just a bit.  Clark's efforts to remain cool and indifferent collapsed into a shuddering moan that he tried to restrain and failed utterly.  Now it was Bruce's turn to pull back.  "You want this," he said, his voice halfway between a question and a statement.

Clark realized he was shivering.  "I'm sorry."

Bruce reached down and took Clark's hand in his, put it on his bare shoulder.  Clark felt the warm skin under his hand and moved it without thinking, sliding it across the taut muscles to caress Bruce's neck.  "Don't be," said Bruce, his eyes half-lidded.  "Don't be."  Clark left his thumb brush down along Bruce's collarbone and Bruce took a ragged breath.  "It's just--" He stopped and bit his lip.  "I don't like wanting things."  His voice cracked slightly on the verb, aching, and he shuddered.  "Wanting," he repeated, his voice almost dreamy. 

Clark slid his hand gently down the center of Bruce's chest, then over to his still-clothed hip, resting there, waiting.  Bruce shook his head slightly as if to clear it;  when he spoke again the iron control was back in his voice.  "Repression is a useful tool, Clark.  Asking me to abandon years of restraint for what could be done quickly and clinically--you have no idea what you're asking of me."

Clark leaned forward and put his mouth to the hollow of the other man's collarbone. "Maybe I don't," he whispered against it.  He slid his hands up Bruce's sides, around to his back, pulling him closer against his mouth.  Beneath his lips he could feel Bruce begin to tremble again, pulse pounding.  "But I can't do this unless you can enjoy it.  I can't."  


  
Bruce's voice was very dry;  Clark could feel it buzzing under his lips, the heartbeat thundering beneath it.  "Sexual activity leads to pleasure, which leads to attachments."  Clark moved his hands back around to Bruce's sides, scars and ribs hard under his hands.  "To wanting."  He moved the hands upward gently, stopping just short of the nipples, and felt the other man lean into him almost reflexively.  "Which leads to needing."  Clark trailed soft kisses downward toward where his hand had paused, hovering.  Bruce kept talking, his voice starting to fray at the edges, "I can't afford to need anyone, Clark.  Especially not you.  I can't start to want you, want your--your hands and mouth on me like this, can't--"

"But you do," Clark said very softly, bringing his hand and mouth together on a dark circle, caressing and brushing, and Bruce's hands clenched wildly against the divan.

  
"Clark," he choked, affirmation and invitation entangled, and he went backwards onto the couch like he was falling off a building, all coiled energy and surrender to gravity together.  Clark kept licking and kissing, his hands shifting downward to unbuckle the belt and ease off the other man's pants.  Bruce had gotten his hands into the red cape and pulled it around to spill across his chest, pulling it toward him like he could force Clark closer to him with it.  Once he had Bruce naked, Clark ran his hands around Bruce's hips, brushing the thumbs closer and closer to his erection until Bruce bucked against him and almost laughed.  "Clark, why the hell am I completely naked and you're fully dressed?  That hardly seems fair."  The touch of humor was suddenly stripped away into raw yearning as he continued,  "I want to see you."

Clark stood up;  as he did, his cape cascaded slowly across Bruce's cock, causing him to make a frantic noise and clutch it briefly to him with one hand, eyes tightly closed.  "Ah, God," he said, his voice thick, "Imagined that so many times...how that would feel..."

Clark found himself suddenly almost unable to breathe at the idea of Bruce alone late at night, his hands stroking, his mind rapt with images of red cloth twining sinuously around him.  Bruce moaned again and thrust against the scarlet cloth, opening eyes heavy with desire to watch Superman unclasp the cape and slip out of his costume.  The abandoned cape pooled across him and around him, concealing and revealing scarred flesh and corded muscle, blue eyes burning above it.  Clark felt dizzy with lust, his head swimming.  He tried to collect himself.  However sultry Bruce might look right now--and yes, that was very sultry indeed--he wasn't terribly experienced.  Clark couldn't just rush in and ravish him.  Just thinking that, however, made the blood surge through his body again and he leaned forward a bit giddily, hands coming to rest on cloth that slipped away into skin, and then he couldn't seem to stop himself from touching Bruce everywhere, all of him gem-hard and precious:  knees, shins, feet, back up over hips, glorious cock, belly, sides, Bruce's voice a purring groan under his hands. 

"Did you bring something?" he finally managed to ask hoarsely, and watched Bruce's eyes clear slightly.

"Of course I did."  The touch of condescension was almost a welcome relief after the unfathomable sound of Bruce groaning his name as if he wanted nothing else in the world.  "I'm not a total idiot about this, just a virgin.  I've read about it a lot,　I know what to expect."  Bruce located his utility belt and pulled out a small bottle.  He handed it to Clark, sudden uncertainty flickering in slate-blue eyes.  "Um, who...I mean--"

Clark groped for some euphemism that didn't sound ridiculous, failed, and decided to be blunt.  "I think probably you should fuck me."  It was surprisingly gratifying to hear Bruce's hissing breath, see his eyes narrow in lust at Clark's words.  "Since you don't have to worry about hurting me.  You can set the pace and focus on your own responses instead of mine."

"I..." Bruce paused.  "I want you to enjoy yourself, Clark."  He managed to make it sound like a shameful confession.

Clark couldn't help chuckling, a husky laugh that he didn't bother to keep the passion out of.  "Bruce, believe me, I'm going to enjoy this."  He uncapped the little tube of lubricant and scooped up some with his fingers, warming it quickly with a fleeting touch of heat vision.  Then he reached out and gently stroked the lube across Bruce's cock, turning it slippery and shining as Bruce made a choking sound, his eyes falling shut, hips thrusting almost involuntarily against the warm hand.

"We'll keep it simple," Clark said, rolling over onto his stomach and putting a pillow under his hips.  "This is a good position for a first time.  Easy access," he added, smiling slightly.  He didn't add that this position kept them from seeing each others' faces--another thing that would make this easier for Bruce.

He had expected that Bruce would move quickly to penetrate him, whether from eagerness or just a desire to get it over with quickly he didn't know.  So he was surprised when cool hands ran down from his shoulderblades to his ass, feather-light and gentle, caressing.  They lingered for some time on his ass, kneading and exploring almost tentatively, teasingly, until Clark was struggling to hold on to the shreds of his composure.  If Bruce wanted to take his time, he didn't need Clark to start begging him for it, begging to be filled and fucked and impaled and...Clark realized he was making an astonishing variety of noises, but he managed to keep from turning any of them into demands.  Dealing with a toppy bottom probably would not be useful to Bruce right now.

But dear sweet God, what those hands were doing to him.

Bruce moved against him and Clark could feel the hard, slippery length of the other man resting against him, hot and straining, and he managed not to buck backwards, managed to wait, shivering.  Bruce's hands were on his shoulders, and he said, "You're not a virgin, Clark, but is this your first time doing...this?"  


Had to stay still, let Bruce do the moving, couldn't move...Clark tried to tamp down the fire consuming his mind and body, forced himself to answer reassuringly, "No, no, I know what to expect."

"You've had other male lovers?"  Bruce's voice was almost conversationally curious, belying the urgent heat of his cock against Clark's body, the hands that slid into Clark's hair and clenched there.

"I--yes, in high school and--some after--" Clark knew he was stammering, but he was having such a hard time holding still he couldn't help it.

"Anyone we know?  Anyone in the community?"

"No, none since--" He stopped himself suddenly before he could go on:  Not since I first laid eyes on you and realized what I was missing.  What I could never, ever have. Bruce's hands were tight in his hair, and Clark finally figured out what must be worrying Bruce.  "I'm immune to human diseases, Bruce.  I promise I'm clean."

"That's not--"  Bruce stopped, removed his hands from Clark's hair, ran them gently down Clark's sides again.  "It's not that.  It's--nothing," he said quietly.  "Don't worry about it."  He took a deep breath.  "All right," he said softly, almost to himself.  "All right."  Then he pushed against Clark, firm and hot and slippery.  He halted as his cock hit the ring of muscle, still tight and hard despite Clark's attempts to relax.  Clark could hear him panting slightly.

"Just a little more, Bruce," Clark said reassuringly, trying to keep his voice level.

"Are you--" Bruce swallowed hard.  "Are you sure this is okay with you, Clark?"

Clark's hands clenched with frustration.  "It's not okay at all," he gasped, feeling his tongue begin to run away from him, "I want it so much, you inside me, fucking me hard--" At the sound of his ragged voice, Bruce started to push harder against and into him, harder with each phrase, and the sensations jarred Clark loose from his sanity more each time.  "Like that, yes, oh God, yes, that's so good, that's what I need, fuck me, please--" The words blurred and became nonsense but it didn't seem to matter;  they set the rhythm, the beat to which Bruce moved inside him.  Bruce remained silent even as the tempo sped up, as his motions lost their usual grace and became awkward, then spasmodic, until finally he groaned once, wildly and wordlessly, hip bones grinding against Clark's ass. 

Clark wasn't anywhere near climax himself, but hearing the guttural, broken noises Bruce made as he came was more satisfying than most orgasms he had experienced in his life.  He rolled over onto his side and Bruce slid down almost bonelessly behind him, curving around and cupping Clark's body with his own.  They lay there quietly, Clark feeling the puffs of Bruce's breath stirring the hairs on the back of his neck and feeling foolishly happy, somehow.

Bruce lay still so long that Clark almost started to worry he had fallen asleep;  after all, he needed to get out of the room before the guards came in the morning.  Then Bruce said, very low, "Are we sure that counted?"

Clark rolled over to look at the other man.  "Hm?"

Bruce's eyes were mostly closed.  "We don't know how they measure virginity, Clark.  What if that didn't count?  Maybe a man needs to be..." He paused and wet his lips slightly, a tiny touch of pink that set Clark's pulse hammering again, "...to be penetrated for it to count."

"Um."  Clark tried to gather his wits, but it was difficult with Bruce's eyes running down his body like that.  "That would mean that all the other men on the team...and, uh, I don't know about Booster and Beetle, but I find it hard to believe that Guy..."  He trailed off at Bruce's low chuckle.

"I see Mr. Boy Scout has never used his x-ray vision on Fire's personal locker."  Clark made a small choking noise as Bruce continued, "Mr. Gardner may well be straight, but that doesn't mean he hasn't enjoyed...certain activities."

Clark tried very, very hard not to imagine the kind of scene Bruce was hinting at.  "You've scarred me for life, Bruce," he whined.

Bruce laughed again, low and husky, and leaned forward to nuzzle Clark's ear.  "Maybe you need a distraction," he whispered, his hands sliding downward.  "Mmm," he purred into Clark's hair, "I do hope what I'm feeling wasn't caused by imagining Fire and Green Lantern--"

Clark couldn't help laughing.  "You said you wanted to distract me, not remind me, you!"  He seized Bruce playfully and kissed him, tasting the other man's lopsided smile.  Bruce broke the kiss eventually and rolled onto his stomach, casting a look over his shoulder that hovered somewhere between challenging and inviting.  Feeling rather dazed, Clark began to caress the other man's sides and flanks, and eventually worked his way to the ass he had admired for so long.  Any worries that Bruce was doing this out of obligation were eased by the way Bruce moved against his hands, coaxing them toward the sensitive spot that Clark stroked lightly, gently, almost dreamily. 

"That's...that feels good," Bruce said, sounding almost surprised.  His voice turned dark and velvety with lust as Clark continued to tease and soothe. "So good.  Clark."  Clark paused to put lube on his fingers and Bruce made a small growling noise of irritation until Clark went back to caressing.  Clark slipped one finger inward very gently and Bruce went still for a moment.

"Is that all right?"

"Yes."  Bruce's voice was distant and abstracted.  "Very."  Clark added another slippery finger and Bruce jerked slightly.  "Oh.  That's."  He stopped there as if it were a complete thought, his head flung back, breathing deeply.  Clark shifted his fingers delicately, searching until he brushed the spot that made Bruce gasp abruptly, his back arching, the gasp rattling downward into lust.  "Jesus," Bruce said throatily.  "That's.  Just with fingers..."

"It's even better with other things," Clark said, easing his fingers out very slowly as Bruce made small breathy sounds.  He moved forward and kissed Bruce's shoulderblade, the nape of his neck.  "Let me show you."

"Wait."  Bruce sounded hesitant, and Clark froze.  "Can we..."  There was a long pause.  "Isn't it possible to--for me to see--"  Bruce twisted on the divan under him until they were face to face.  "Can I--look at you?" 

Clark stared at him. 

"I want to see your face," Bruce said softly.  "While you're doing this."

"It's, uh, it's a little more awkward," Clark said, his throat gone very dry suddenly.  "A little more work for you."

"I'm not averse to a little work," Bruce said, his lips quirking.  The playfulness faded from his eyes as he looked steadily at Clark.  "I want to see your face," he repeated gently, and rolled over onto his back fully, his long legs tangling with Clark's.

"Tell me if I'm going too fast," Clark said a little nervously, and Bruce nodded.  Clark leaned in slowly, hands on Bruce's hips, pushing.  There was a shifting sensation and Bruce winced slightly and bit his lip, eyes closed;  Clark stopped and waited until the other man's face was calm again.  He was glad he could watch Bruce's expression and match his pace to the flickering arousal he saw there, keeping it slow and relaxed. 

Bruce's eyes drifted open, oddly unfocused, turned inward.  "Feels good," he murmured as Clark finally finished pushing inward, tight against Bruce's body.  "Can you--where was that place you touched--?"

Clark shifted again, feeling supple heat all around him, the deliberate pace a slow-burning fuse moving toward something vast and overwhelming...he tried to put that out of his mind.  He finally nudged the right spot again and Bruce said "Ah," delight and new lust bright in his voice.  His gaze sharpened on Clark's face.  "Faster," he said.  "You can go faster."

Clark accelerated the pace very slightly and felt Bruce's cock respond, brushing between them.  "Yes," Bruce said, and the single word, tense and hot, almost sent Clark careening over the edge into climax.  He bit his lip and tried to keep his breathing steady, struggling for control.  Bruce's eyes were dark with arousal, the look in them something that Clark would have called "tender" if it weren't Bruce Wayne.  His hand drifted downward, his gaze still fixed on Clark's face, stroking his own erection slowly, luxuriously.  As Clark moved deeper into the fire threatening to immolate him entirely, Bruce's tempo picked up gradually.  He hardly seemed to notice it, his eyes locked on Clark's face, lips parted slightly.  As Clark struck the right spot once more Bruce made a sudden sound of infinite surprise and came again, pupils dilated to near-total darkness.  Clark leaned in to kiss those parted lips, feeling the slickness between their bodies. 

Bruce responded to the kiss eagerly but pulled away when he heard Clark's breath catching, staggering, moving toward the brink.  "I want to see you," he said again.  "I want to see you when you come inside me.  I want to see--what I do to you."

Clark was beyond words by then, groaning and struggling not to thrust as hard as possible.  Bruce's hands slid downward to grasp his hips and pull him closer, and the motion, the closeness, Bruce's greedy eyes on him, the impossible rightness of it all, finally pushed Clark over.  Fire and light raged through his body and he felt his head fall back, heard himself making noises, heard Bruce saying something, far away and so close:    


  
"Beautiful."   


Clark slowly came to himself, sticky and weary and entangled in Bruce's limbs and his own cape.  Bruce was looking at him, his face unreadable.  "I suppose you'd better be going," Clark made himself say.

"I suppose I'd better," Bruce agreed. 

He stood up rather slowly and cautiously.  When he winced very slightly once, putting on the costume, Clark said, "I'm sorry."  Bruce shot him an opaque look but said nothing.  The aliens had thoughtfully supplied napkins with the fruit;  once they were in the small incinerator no evidence remained of the evening's activities.

The cowl firmly back in place, Batman slipped into the ventilation shaft.  "Wait," Clark said before the other man could disappear, and the vigilante paused.  "I know you don't want...attachments.  And there's no reason any of this has to lead to that.  I swear I won't...presume anything, won't force an intimacy on you that you don't want."  He stopped and took a breath;  Batman was motionless, looking at him.  "But I don't think attachments make us weaker.  I think they can make us stronger.  I would not mind if you were willing to risk an...attachment with me."

"You won't presume." 

"Nothing that happened here leaves this room unless you want it to."

"You can do that."  Almost a question;  not quite.  "Just...forget it happened."

  
"Never," Clark breathed, ashamed of the way his voice shook suddenly.  He schooled it to the level resonance of the Man of Steel.  "But I can keep it from being anything other than this, here.  This one time.  If you want."

"I'll...take that under consideration," Batman said, and disappeared.

Superman was alone in the room again. 

He ate some more of the fruit, sitting on the floor.  Not on the divan.  The fruit left his fingers sticky, but all the napkins were gone.

After some time, the door swung open.  Mrrsd entered the room, waving his hands excitedly and carrying Beetle's translator.  "Honored hero, excellent news!  It appears your noble sacrifice will not be needed!"

The alien led him out of the Room of Deep Contemplation to the Volcano, chattering volubly.  "The one called Blue Beetle and the one called Green Lantern determined that the Volcano is linked to a--" It broke off, confused.  "--well, suffice to say they ascertained the magical roots of the Volcano and unearthed a solution!"

"They did?"  Clark was distinctly surprised.

"The ore from a nearby moon, when deposited in large enough quantities into the Volcano, should produce enough of the right kind of energy to disrupt it and extinguish it."

As they drew nearer to the Volcano, Superman could see the League gathered nearby.  Guy Gardner was nowhere to be seen.  As Superman and Mrrsd watched, however, the Green Lantern descended from the sky, his green force field clutching a huge cylinder of glittering purple rock.  With a flourish, he pitched the massive shaft of ore into the Volcano, which closed up around it almost gently, leaving cheering aliens in its wake. 

"Yeah baby!" crowed Gardner as he landed near the rest of the League.  "Did you see that move?  Plugged that hole up just as tight as--"  He fell silent at the look Batman gave him, perhaps remembering the contents of a certain locker.

There was an awkward pause as Superman joined them.  "Dear hero," Mrrsd said with emotion, grasping Superman's hand with a sucker-covered appendage, "We appreciate your willingness to sacrifice yourself for us.  Please depart for your home with a fully-refueled ship and our deepest gratitude, oh brave and splendid virgin." 

Guy Gardner opened his mouth again and Ice elbowed him sharply in the ribs as Mrrsd ambled off. 

Superman crossed his arms and looked as alpha-male as possible.  "None of you.  Will ever.  Speak of this.  Again.  Am I clear?"

Everyone but Batman, who whirled to stalk toward the ship, agreed that Superman had made himself quite clear. 

  
 : : :   


The flight back took place in relative silence.  Of course, "relative silence" for this particular team meant a constant flow of chatter between Booster and Beetle, and a resolutely mundane conversation between Fire, Ice, and Green Lantern.

Superman sat next to Batman and watched him pilot the ship.  Clark sat next to Bruce, and they said nothing at all.

After they returned to Earth, Clark was in his quarters when the door slid open to reveal Batman.  "I didn't agree," he said abruptly.

"I'm sorry?"

"I didn't agree with the others.  To never speak of it again."

Clark smiled.  "I kind of took that for granted."

Bruce frowned.  "I'll speak of whatever the hell I want to.  You can't just go around telling me to shut up."

"What--I--I didn't tell you to shut up about it." 

"You said 'none of you.'"  Batman stepped into the room, the door sliding shut behind him.  "You've got a lot of nerve, Clark, treating me like I can just be lumped in with the rest of them.  That's just like you, making high-handed, arrogant decisions from on high that you think we mere mortals have to live by.  Well, maybe I don't want to, has that occurred to you?"

Clark's mouth was hanging open somewhat.  He closed it again and tried to marshal his thoughts.  Bruce continued, his voice fierce, "You can't just bully me into being quiet.  If I want to talk about it, I can talk about it."  He took a breath.  "If I want to talk about the fact that we just spent most of the night having sex with each other, that's my decision, not yours to make.  If I want to talk about the fact that it was very good, you don't have the right to tell me to keep my mouth shut."  He reached out and stabbed a finger at Clark's chest;  Clark fell back a step.  "And if I feel like announcing I'm willing to repeat the experience, all the Kryptonian bluster in the world isn't going to keep me silent about it.  So don't think you can intimidate me, Clark.  I'm not some underling you can boss around." 

Bruce stopped talking, crossed his arms, and glared at Clark.  For his part, Clark felt entirely at a loss.  The form of this argument was almost drearily familiar, but the content..."What about...attachments?" he said rather weakly.

Bruce jabbed an angry finger at Clark's chest again.  "That's my decision to make.  Not yours."  Then he spread his fingers out and rested them gently, delicately, splayed across the gold emblem.  "If I feel like deciding your opinions about attachment may have some merit, that's none of your business."

Clark couldn't help laughing a little at that, and Bruce removed his hand, the corner of his mouth lifting very slightly.  "Clark.  If you come to the Manor sometime, I will prove to you that you have no power to keep me from talking about sex with you whenever I want, at whatever length I want, and with as much intensity as I want." 

Clark's knees felt a little weak.  "So, are you free--" he groped for a day far enough in the future to not immediately reveal how desperate he was, "--Sunday in the afternoon?"

Batman turned, the edge of his cape brushing Superman's body, and went to the door.  He paused, looking back over his shoulder.

"Saturday's probably better."


	2. Getting Practice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce requires some practice.  Clark is quite willing to help out.

Clark Kent paused on the doorstep of Wayne Manor, a bouquet of daffodils and sunflowers in one hand and the other raised to knock.  He told himself he was admiring the wrought-iron door knocker in the shape of a dragon, but he knew that in reality he was just nervous.

It had been a few days since Superman had--unwisely--agreed to join the JLI for a mission.  A damaged engine, an unplanned pit stop, a virginometer and a magical volcano later--Clark shook his head vigorously;  even _summaries_ of missions with those lunatics made no sense!  But somehow Clark had learned that Bruce was a virgin and the two of them had proceeded to remedy that situation.  A couple of times.  Most pleasurably.

The adventure had ended with Bruce inviting him to the Manor this afternoon for a continuation.  "Invited" was rather a euphemism; it was actually closer to "commanded."

Clark had decided he didn't really mind that.

As he hovered on the doorstep, one hand still raised in mid-air, the door swung open abruptly.  Alfred Pennyworth's lifted eyebrows greeted Clark as he lowered his hand and smiled.  "I brought some...um, flowers," he said, holding them out.

Alfred took the bouquet away from Clark.  "A very...sunny choice, sir."  He gestured Clark into the hallway.  "Master Bruce is awaiting you upstairs in his bedroom."

"In his bedroom?"  Clark felt himself blushing at Alfred's look.  "I mean, thanks.  I can find my own way," he said hastily as it looked like Alfred was about to usher him there.

The door was ajar, and Clark pushed it open to find himself confronted with the image of Bruce Wayne sitting in bed, black silk sheets tucked--just barely!--above his privates, gloriously and completely nude.

As Clark gaped, Bruce glanced at the antique clock on the wall.  "You're five minutes late," he noted as if he weren't sprawled out in a bed naked.

"I..."  Clark could think of nothing at all to say.

Bruce stretched and ran a hand through his hair, looking slightly annoyed.  "What's the matter?"

"I thought we might start with some drinks and conversation, maybe...take a walk in the gardens..." 

Bruce frowned.  "I'm not interested in wasting time.  You're here to give me practice in all this sex stuff, not compare my eyes to the night sky." 

"Oh," said Clark.  The man's eyes _were_ remarkably like the midnight-blue velvet of an evening sky, but the look in them was anything but starry at the moment.

Bruce picked a notebook off the nightstand and tossed it to Clark.  It was a beautiful leather-bound notebook, the pages creamy vellum, a small gold pen held in a loop at its side.  "I've made a list," he said.  "I'll let you choose what we do off of it today."

Clark opened the notebook.  The first page was the beginning of a list, written in a neat, cramped hand.  The list started with _Anal Sex:  Bottoming,_ and a long list of positions as a sub-category.  One of them was marked off.  The second item was _Anal Sex:  Topping_ , with a similar long list of positions, one of them checked off.  The list continued with _Oral Sex:  Giving_ and _Oral Sex:  Receiving,_ then _Sixty-Nine._   Feeling deeply flustered, Clark turned the page to discover that it continued.  In fact--he checked quickly--it continued for quite a few more pages.  Clark scanned down the list:  _Phone Sex, Bondage (Tied and Tyer), Mutual Masturbation, Nipple Clamps, Rimm--  
_  
Clark looked up.  "This is a very long list, Bruce."

Bruce made something remarkably close to a purring sound.  "It is, isn't it?"

Clark frowned.  "What in the world is number thirty?  I've never heard of that."  Bruce made a quick gesture with his hands and Clark started, blushing.  " _Oh._   Oh, _that's_ what that's called.  I...I see."  He turned another page.  " _Erotic Asphyxiation?"_ His voice cracked slightly. __  


  
__The man in the bed shrugged, a fluid and graceful motion.  "I figure, when you're mind-controlled usually the first thing you try to do is strangle me--I might as well get _something_ out of it."  He leaned back on the pillows and waved regally at Clark.  "I'll let you pick one this time."

Reading the list had rendered Clark a bit light-headed.  He sat down on the bed dizzily.  "Bruce, sex isn't something you can tabulate and regulate like an exercise regimen."

Arms wrapped around Clark from behind and began to unbutton his shirt.  "I'm Bruce Wayne," a husky voice breathed in his ear.  "And there is _nothing_ that I cannot approach rationally and reasonably."

Clark turned to face the other man and found himself tugged down on top of a very naked playboy.  "Sex isn't just another part of your Mission you can plan," Clark said, although his rationality and reason seemed to have left the room around when his hands had found Bruce's bare flanks.

Bruce's head was flung back and his eyes closed;  his hands were ripping at Clark's shirt, but when he spoke, his voice was controlled and almost clinical.  "Understanding all aspects of human behavior is important.  Sexuality is an essential aspect of human behavior.  I've neglected that dimension of behavior for too long."

The contrast between the cool, detached words and the bare body writhing urgently underneath him threatened to unhinge Clark entirely.  He tangled his hands in Bruce's hair and kissed him fiercely for a while until Bruce squirmed free with a kick.  "Choose what we're doing.  And get your clothes off."

Clark stared at Bruce as he pulled off his shirt and unbuckled his pants.  The other man averted his eyes slightly as Clark got undressed, a smudge of color on his cheekbones.  As Clark slipped his underwear off, Bruce busied himself with opening a drawer, taking out a few containers-- _Maxiumus, Astroglide, Boy Butter--_ and reading their labels intently.

Once naked, Clark stretched out on the bed next to Bruce, luxuriating in the feel of bare skin against his body.  He ran his hands down the lines of Bruce's form, nearly content to just lie there caressing him, but Bruce slapped his hand away almost irritably.  "Choose," he said.  "I suppose it'll have to be something not requiring equipment today, although we could use material from the cave for bondage."  He paused and added thoughtfully, "I suppose I could cobble something together that would work as nipple clamps as well.  It might require some adjustment..." His abstracted voice trailed off as if he were contemplating logistics, but his cock thumped abruptly against Clark's body as if to contradict him.

Clark closed his eyes at the sensation and took a deep breath.  "I can choose more than one thing off the list?"

Bruce made a satisfied noise.  "That would be pragmatic.  As long as they actually work together."

"These two should work together.  You on top of me, me penetrating, with you getting practice in dirty talk."  Clark almost smiled at the minute flicker of uncertainty on that controlled face, and slid a hand slowly down Bruce's chest, caressing the taut muscles.  "No penetration until I decide your...conversational skills...are convincing enough."

Bruce nodded thoughtfully.  "A new position and practice with a useful skill.  Good choice."  He gestured toward the nightstand with the different lubes.  "These are three of the best on the market.  Which would you like to try this week?" 

The image of Bruce sitting in front of the computer doing extensive research on lubricants, a fierce frown on concentration on his handsome face, came to Clark so vividly that he was torn between laughter and arousal.  Arousal seemed to be winning.  He picked up a bottle, made his palms slippery and slid them along the length of his cock, watching Bruce's face flicker between arousal and detachment.  Then he reached out with one still-slick hand and ran a finger down the hard angles of Bruce's chest, skirting the other man's erection, lightly brushing his balls.  Bruce shivered, so slightly it was almost imperceptible.

"Well?"  Clark said as he settled some of his weight along Bruce, pinning him lightly to the bed.  "I hate to break this to you, but dirty talk and silence are contradictory.  Convince me you want it, Bruce."

Bruce smiled, brilliant and seductive.  "Oh, I want it, Clark.  I want you to fuck me with that cock, fuck me hard up the ass, fuck me until I scream."  His voice was silky and very pleased with itself, and he put his arms around Clark and pulled him closer, twining his legs around the Kryptonian and nudging him in the right direction. 

Clark kissed Bruce's neck to hide his smile.  "Bruce, dirty talk is more than just knowing the right four-letter words.  There's tone to consider, too."  He rubbed slowly at a nipple, feeling it harden under his touch, rolling the nub between his fingers and tightening very slightly.  "You have to sound like you truly _want_ it, like it's something you've been thinking of forever, like you don't know how you can possibly wait any longer."

"I do want it," Bruce said, his voice tight, almost annoyed.  "I've been thinking of it...a lot.  How it felt."

"How it felt when I did _what?"_   Clark maneuvered so he was between Bruce's legs, sliding between the other man's thighs, delightful friction making him breathless. 

"When we...when you fucked me.  How it felt when your cock slid into me for the first time."

"How did it feel?"  whispered Clark against Bruce's neck.

"Tight.  Full."  Bruce moved against him abruptly, a sharp motion he didn't seem to be aware of.  "A little uncomfortable at first, but then, when I got used to it...good."  A hitching breath.  "So good.  Fucking me.  I want you to do it again."

Clark shifted, rolling onto his back, nudging Bruce on top of him, their erections straining against each other.  Bruce stared down at him, his dark eyes almost hazy.  Clark ran a finger down Bruce's back, along the curve of his buttocks, then into the cleft, brushing and teasing.  Bruce's face went abstracted, distant.  He didn't seem to be breathing at all for a moment, then took a long, ragged breath.  When he spoke, the clinical tone was back again, but strain ran underneath the detachment like a dark current.  "Am I convincing enough, Clark?"

Clark smiled lazily, as if he had all the patience in the world, as if his body weren't screaming for release.  "Not yet, I don't think."

Bruce's hands came down hard on Clark's chest, fingers dragging downward, almost clawing.  " _What do you want from me,_ Clark?  How much do you want me to beg for it?"

Clark licked his lips.  "Beg for what?"

Bruce sucked in breath like Clark had hit him.  "For you to fuck me, for the feel of you in me, against me, fucking me until I can't _think_ anymore, your cock inside me, Clark, it feels so good I can't stand it, God--" he thrust violently against Clark's body, rubbing like a cat, "--I could almost come again just thinking about it, I need to come so badly, I need you inside me so much."  His voice was raw and aching, bare of silk and velvet, bare of everything but need.  "In me, filling me, making me want to scream, but I can't, can't lose control like that, can't--" The deep blue eyes were almost panicked, "--need, need, want, please--" Bruce finished in a stuttering rush before Clark surged up and stopped the flow of words with his mouth, kissing him, tangling with him in the silken sheets, giving him everything he had asked for and more that he hadn't.

Some time later, Bruce rolled off Clark's limp and sated body, wiping fastidiously at his sticky stomach with the black sheets.  "Messy," he said, his lip lifted. 

Clark rolled over and lay spread-eagled as Bruce dabbed at him as well.  "Sex is messy, Bruce.  Like life."  He glanced at Bruce.  "Like love."

Bruce said nothing to that, but the quick, efficient swipes of cloth gradually slowed until they were closer to caresses, circles of black silk on shining skin.  Then Bruce carefully draped a drier bit of black cloth over Clark's privates and leaned across him to pick up the leather notebook.  He slipped the pen out of its little holder, made two neat check marks, and replaced the pen.  "My turn to choose next week," he noted.

"I don't suppose 'post-coital cuddling' is on the list?" Clark's voice was blurry and warm.

Bruce rifled through the pages.  "It doesn't seem to be.  Do you think that's a skill I need to work on?"

Clark smiled into the pillow and reached for the other man.  "Maybe.  After all, you never know when you'll find yourself in bed next to someone who's crazy about you and just wants to hold you for a while and who--"  Clark paused just a second, "--who might be falling in love with you."

Bruce looked thoughtful.  "I suppose you never do know," he said musingly, and let Clark tug him down, curling up against his warm and solid body, cautious and careful.

Practicing.


End file.
